black = new orange
there are other places you can go
[little yellow different]
[fametracker]- the farmer's almanac of celebrity worth
for the 19 years i didn't know you i still loved you for them all
Sunday, March 17, 2002 @ 11:35 a.m.
Highly committed website-runner-type-person Jocelyn here, giving you my twice-weekly boring glimpse into my life. Why? GOOD QUESTION! Seriously, though, I haven't been a very inspiring journal-keeper, obsessive-archiver, or paper-emperor lately. My fault, my fault, totally. I'm not going to apologize, but I am going to assure you that I am alive and kicking. (James: "kicking people isn't going to get you anywhere." Jocelyn: "Not kicking people hasn't gotten me anywhere either." Also: Meghan: "You shouldn't kick people you love.")
Moving along... I went to see the band stirling last night, their CD-release party. They were amazing. Today I've been making nuclear-green play-doh. That's about it really. Oh yeah: I'm not wearing green (for St. Patrick's Day) because I like getting pinched.
Can I have my breakdown now?
"How are you?"
The Jocelyn update: I sleep all the time now. It's terrible. I'm exhausted. I think I'm still catching up from my time in the UK. (By the way: some kind of excerpts-from-my-trip-journal + pictures thing to come, when I get around to it, no guarantees.) I have this urge to just watch TV for the rest of my life. I know if I give into it and go downstairs, the rest of the semester will pass by without me.
I wanted to take intro Tibetan but they aren't offering it next year. Those bastards. I also wanted to take: two film classes (one about the French new wave, and one about Westerns) and an english class about children's fantasy books. I never, ever want to leave University. My future, or lack thereof, scares the shit out of me. (In case you missed it: I declared my major as English, just as the internet decreed. Rodeo was a close second.)
Of course, I may still fulfill my lifelong dream of becoming a stripper... stay tuned!
Oh yeah: I too am now addicted to the marvel that is penny arcade.
it's not somebody who's seen the light
Hmmm... I steal all my links. Also I hate all you people.
If I think too hard, I might realize nothing I do has any significance whatsoever and stay in bed for the rest of my life. So, I don't think.
Seriously, though. I mean, what was the last thing I did that actually mattered at all? See what I mean?
God, that's awful.
nothing important happened here today
Even though I don't care at all about school, I've decided to buckle down and do some actual get-off-my-ass work, since the alternative (getting lots of bad marks) is even less appetizing. In this spirit, I am trying to catch up, one subject at a time. I'm currenly only about 1.5 weeks behind.
My parents are having another one of their parties this weekend. Call me a bad teenager (I'm 19-- am I still a teenager? Discuss) but I love my parents' parties. Great food, little children to talk to, and usually some funny jokes. However, this makes me miss James, who is always a willing Jocelyn's-parents-party participant.
Hmmm... it's almost time for a new black notebook, Volume X:
Cool stuff: brownies + my mom, magazines coming to me in the mail, Alex's "literary society," my sociology professor, Dr. Seuss (the man is my hero), planning my schedule for next year, the smell of fresh coffee beans, studying in bed, Dido, and books. I love sitting in my room surrounded by my books (350 or so? Too many for one room) because they are like comfortable old friends. I reread just the bits of them I like, and sometimes I read new ones. I have a huge pile of books I've been meaning to finish beside my bed (No Logo, Stephen Leacock, Technopoly, james Thurber, White Noise, and The Lexus and the Olive Tree) but a book for my history class takes precendence.
Anyway, I know that was boring. But I don't care. I have a permaheadache and thinking about my books cheers me up.
an ode on leftover pizza
I have never eaten an olive. I'm not going to try one until someone tells me what they are. Vegetable? or what? It seems like one of those food products that just wasn't meant to be eaten. Like capers, or rat poison.
In other news, there is no other news.
Oh: that new Brandy single is the most god-awful song (if you can really call it that) that I have ever heard.
I knew the internet was missing something.
if you want it, come and get it...
Liam, from my Sunday school, lying on his back: "I can't see the pictures!"
deja vu: "Why do we think these things happened before? Simple. They did happen before, in our minds, as visions of the future. Because they are precognitions, we can't fit the material into our system of consciousness as it is now structured. This is basically supernatural stuff. We're seeing into the future but haven't learned how to process the experience. So it stays hidden until we come face to face with the event. How we are free to remember it, to experience it as familiar material." -don delillo, white noise
I never get deja vu. It's something I get a bit huffy about, actually.
Surprisingly peaceful moment: sitting on my living-room floor, surrounded by my old friends and the rustlings of plastic lego blocks, punctuated by the odd request: "Have you seen any other ones like this?" "Can you pass me that six-by-one white?"
The word of the day (brought to you by mirriam-webster.com): stir-crazy. "distraught because of prolonged confinement." That's what I am. Someone needs to intervene. Not that I need to go out (beacause I have to do homework), but... well, I don't know. Someone else solve this problem, please.
i'm a policeman directing traffic
So, question: do Wal-Mart employees have a choice as to whether they appear as models in Wal-Mart flyers? Do they get paid for this extra work? Do they keep to keep the plus-sized sweatshirts, cheap athletic shoes, and winning smiles? This is something I have always wondered about, although I'm not exactly losing sleep about it.
I'm watching Persona for my film essay.
you're my favourite flavour
Hmmm... it's such a lonely day. Cold and inhospitable. I need someone to talk to, a hot tub, and a blue drink. Does anybody want to come over to my house tomorrow for some low-key nonaggressive chilling?
i'm a renegade fighter
Our obsession with technology, improvement, innovation, progress (or simply change disguised as progress)-- I wonder if it has anything to do with death. We're the only species to live every day cognisciently aware of the immediacy of our own deaths. Thus technology, as a backup version of ourselves, our consciousness should we need it to outlive us? Or constant development, as though mortality were something we could outrun?
The new pitas server is so fast. It's splendid.
disturbing link du jour
"I taped [the hockey game] and watched it later."
"Can we reach no further in this subject than experience and probability?" -David Hume, on science
"I suppose that even the most pleasurable of imaginable occupations, that of batting baseballs through the windows of the R.C.A. building, would pall a little as the days ran on." -James Thurber on how all occupations have their disadvantages
"They won't let us bring nail clippers on the plane but they give us metal forks?" -The elderly lady (apparently with a bit of an anarchist bent) next to me on the plane
"Have you met Harold? [gestures at empty chair; friend looks at him quizzically] ...It's no use being crazy if you can't have a little fun!" -John Nash, in A Beautiful Mind
"Bye, Europe!" -The small child seated in front of me, as our plane took off from London to Calgary
"... and 'Moulin Rouge,' which you will either love or dislike..." -The head flight attendant, describing our in-flight programming
"Well, it's a great location... right on the main road." -Me, on the convenience of Stonehenge
"And my friends are better prepared mentally than anybody else for the future that is actually going to arrive... me and my friends are throwing-out consultants. Wish us all luck; we send you resumes and kisses." -Douglas Coupland, Shampoo Planet
"You're so goddamned concerned about the civilians, and I don't give a damn." -Richard Nixon, then US President, to Henry Kissinger, Secretary of State, on civilian casualties in Vietnam, on tape just released this week
so why'd you come home,/
So: my boots set off airport security metal detectors. I take them off and send them through on the conveyor belt, through the x-ray machine, and pad through myself in my striped socks. The security woman grins at me and I grin back.
Well, I'm off to the UK. I will have a good trip. You will continue to check this page on an obsessively daily basis to see if I've updated while I'm gone, which I probably won't.
But the good news is, pepperoni is delicious!
Have a good week!
if you're feeling salty, then I'm your tequila
i. the light is so harsh outside, as if this were a space station and not a home. everything seems to be made of blocks, like a home built by a small child.
yeah, that's it. I was sitting at the computer when it came, and I didn't even have time to lift my fingers off the keys to my ears. suddenly electricity ended, or there was too much of it, and the world fried itself and then froze, and my last thought was something mundane: "this isn't what i thought it would be like" or "i wish i was somewhere else for this."
only then it turned out it wasn't the end of the world after all; it was just the end of people. although, if it makes us feel better, the planet will never recover.
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